you've gotten into my bloodstream
by Captain Silence
Summary: Lyanna meets the one person who can unravel her without her caring.


_**you've gotten into my bloodstream**_

Your footsteps echo through the darkened halls of Harrenhal. Perched at the top of your head is a crown of winter roses, given to you by none other than Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. He marched right past his wife and laid them in your lap. You could feel the stars and you know what the kingdoms and everyone in them must think of you - _of him_. But you can't get rid of the haunting feeling in the pit of your stomach, that somehow you are unable to get the prince's smile out of your mind.

You hear footsteps behind you and you pause, turning and there he is. Your lips part in surprise and you self-consciously raise a hand to the crown of flowers, thinking perhaps he realized what a mistake he's made. "Prince Rhaegar," you say and dip into a lady-like curtsy that would have made your mother proud. He shakes his head slightly and moves towards you, reaching out and taking your hand. His fingers curl slightly around yours and he dips to raise your knuckles to his lips. He places a kiss against your knuckles and something tells you it wasn't as chaste as it seemed.

"Lyanna." He says your name and it's like nothing in the world matters and you hate yourself for it. You are promised to Robert Baratheon and the coal you saw in his eyes when Rhaegar gave you the crown makes you shudder to remember it. This isn't how it's supposed to be. You're not supposed to be falling for the easy charm of the crown prince and yet you cannot look away from his violet eyes, catching your intensely, and the easy curl of his lips, fashioned into a smile gentler than any you've ever received from Robert.

It's with a jolt, that you realize he still hasn't let go of your hand and you find, to your shock, you don't want him to. You want him to hold on tight and a part of you doesn't want him to let go. You shift your hand so that it curls and fits perfectly in his, as though the two of you were made to fit together. As though the gods had placed that crown of roses in your lap and called it destiny. You reach up with your other hand to gently touched the rose closest to your ear. "Thank you," you whisper into the space between you and the prince and his lips curve more.

"They are not nearly enough to portray how beautiful you really are," he replied, reaching out slightly to smooth a strand of your hair back against the rest of the chocolate locks. "Queen of love and beauty," he murmurs, his eyes alight.

"What does that make you?" you ask softly.

Rhaegar's eyes twinkle. "The king?" he suggests and then amends it with, " _your_ king."

You feel warmth flood your face. No man has ever exhibited a blush from you before and you feel a flash of stubbornness. No man should have that effect on you. Though, earlier he had played music that made you cry.

He almost seems to read your mind. "Sorry, about earlier," he says and you let out a soft laugh and a similar one exits his lips.

You look up and he is looking at you. You dip your head slightly and step back from him, your fingers sliding from his. "I must retire, I'm quite tired, forgive me." You dip into another curtsy and as you turn, his long fingers catch your wrist. You lift your head to glance back at him, not saying a word - scarcely daring to breathe - as he lifts your hand once more and presses a soft kiss to it.

"Good night, my lady," he returns lightly and he lets go, turning and going on down the hall and away from you.

Throughout the time you are in Harrenhal, you see Rhaegar constantly. He has a way of finding himself at your side and you cannot move away. You are ensnared by him and he, apparently, by you. It was a careful friendship, bordering on something more for so long until the last day… The last day, you both fell.

You walk at his side, feeling his eyes on you and when you look at him there is a desire in his eyes. And you let yourself go. You reach up, your fingers grazing across his cheekbone and back into his hair and his lips brush yours. It's tentative and you arch slightly towards him even as he draws back, hesitant. His breath is hot on your skin, both your eyes flickering closed. _And you collide._

His lips meet yours and yours crush against his. His arms slid around you and tug you close, his fingers caught in your hair and yours in his. You are awakened and nothing else matters except your silver prince, his lips on yours and his body pressed flush to yours. His hands slide, cupping your face then towards to your hips, bringing you closer and you let him, never wanting to be rid of him or anywhere but at his side.

When you break you are both breathless. Your eyes open and his do as well. You look into each other's eyes and you realize what's happened, what's going to happen. You promise each other right then and there, without saying a word that the world couldn't keep you apart. And it doesn't.

You leave Winterfell not long after you return and you run off with Rhaegar and he fills your days with laughter and with joy and gentle kisses and more. Before you know it, you are pregnant with his child and he is going to war, a war started over you. You tell him you never wanted him to go to war for you and he tells you that he would die for you.

And with tears in your eyes, he leaves you in the Tower of Joy and you beg him to come back to you, to win this war and come back to you and your unborn son.

He doesn't. The last face you see if the face of your dearest brother, your Ned. And the last thing you say?

"Promise me, Ned."

And the last thing you hear?

"I promise."


End file.
